In my early days, for the supposed benefit of my health, I passed a winter in Tennessee, and, being unoccupied, except with my studies, I spent a great portion of my time in botanical and zooelogical excursions in the woods adjoining the city of Nashville.  It was during that season I experienced the full power of the winter-birds to give life and beauty to the scenes of Nature; for, though not one was heard to sing, they seemed as active and as full of merriment as in the early summer.  The birds that most particularly attracted my attention at this time were the Woodpeckers, of which several species were very numerous.  Conspicuous among them was the Pileated Woodpecker, (Picus pilcaius,) a bird with rusty-black plumage, a red crest and moustaches, and a white stripe on each side of the neck,—­one of the largest of the tribe.  His loud croaking note was heard at all times in the deep woods, and his great size and his frequent hammering upon the resounding boles of the trees attracted every one’s attention.

A more beautiful, but smaller species, was the Redheaded Woodpecker, (P. erythrocephalus,) with head, neck, and throat of crimson, and other parts of his plumage variously marked with white and changeable blue.  This species, though never seen in Eastern Massachusetts, is a common resident in this latitude, west of the Green-Mountain range.  The birds of this species were very numerous, during my excursions, and the woods were constantly flushing with their bright colors as they flitted among the trees.  They were sometimes joined by another species, hardly less beautiful, the Redbreasted Woodpecker (P.  Caroliniensis).

It is impossible to describe the charm which these birds afforded to the otherwise solitary woods.  The loud croaking of the Log-cock, the cackling screams of the Redheaded Woodpecker, and the solemn, tolling note of the Redbreast, blended with the occasional cooing of Turtle-doves, formed a sylvan charm, that made my winter-rambles, at this period, as interesting as any I ever pursued in summer or autumn.

In our latitude, after the first flight of snow has covered the ground, the winter-birds, pressed by hunger, are compelled to make extensive forages in quest of food.  Hence our attention is more closely attracted to them at this time, as many parties of them will visit our neighborhood in the course of the day, when if no snow had fallen, they would have confined themselves to a more limited range.  One of the most attractive sights on such occasions is caused by the flocks of Snow-Buntings, which are particularly gregarious in their habits.  In Sweden they are called “Bad-Weather-Birds,” because they are mostly seen when the fallen snow has caused them to roam from place to place, in quest of their subsistence.  They are far from being birds of ill-omen, however, as we see them commonly when the storm is past.  Few sights are more picturesque than these flocks of Snow-Buntings, whirling with the